A True Friend Would Accept You For Who You Are
by Tealheartleopard
Summary: For the first time, Sherlock is doubting his friendship with John. Should Sherlock trust him with his biggest secret? Or would it end in trouble?   Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: did you fellow sherlockians enjoy a scandal in Belgravia? Hope you did! Anyway here is chapter one!**

**Sherlock stood by the window in 221b, staring out into the dark night. For once it wasn't the cars driving past the flat that he was interested in. nor was it the people that walked on the pavement across the road. He was staring past all that.**

**Sherlock was looking at the sky.**

**John walked through the door to their flat after a night out with Sarah and stood next to his chair unmoving when he saw Sherlock's silhouette against the window. John took a step forwards then paused. What if Sherlock simply couldn't sleep because of a particularly hard case? Then again, Sherlock seldom slept.**

"**Uhh,Sherlock?",John called, shuffling his feet nervously on the carpet.**

"**Hello John. How was your visit to the pub with Sarah? "Sherlock replied with a bored tone. **

**John wasn't even going to ask Sherlock how he knew that they had been to the pub. John had only told Sherlock that he was going out with Sarah and that he'd be back late. John held his jacket collar to his nose and sniffed it. It did reek of alcohol.**

"**It was fine Sherlock. What are you doing?", John asked, stepping closer to his flat mate. He could see that Sherlock was staring at the sky.**

**Once John was right next to him, Sherlock spoke again, "It's beautiful isn't it", was his reply to johns question.**

"**What?", John questioned, looking up to where Sherlock's eyes were.**

"**The sky at night. The moon. The stars", Sherlock sighed.**

**John paused before stating, "I thought you didn't care for the solar system".**

"**Doesn't mean I can't admire it", Sherlock whispered.**

**John sighed in defeat. If you can't beat them, join them he thought.**

"**May I join you?", John asked.**

"**Mm", was the reply Sherlock gave John, which was accompanied with a small nod of his head.**

**John slowly made his way to Sherlocks' side; he looked up and saw that Sherlock was right. It was truly a beautiful sight. The dark of the night sky, a black blanket that marked the days end. The billions of minute stars that glistened like gems in the sky. The moon that shone brightly, casting a white light on the streets below. It was a new moon, just a slither of silver amongst the black.**

"**Your right, it is beautiful", John breathed.**

**Sherlock smiled slightly at this, but as John lifted his head to look at Sherlock, the smile disappeared and was replaced with a serious expression that john was used to seeing.**

"**People think there might be worlds beyond ours. Different species of plants mammals and even birds.", Sherlock said looking at Johns face as he said this.**

**John just nodded his head.**

"**John look at me", Sherlock placed his hand on John shoulder. Causing John to turn around.**

"**What would you do if there was a different species of human?", Sherlock asked. Then he added, "What would you do if I was one of them?"**

**John looked into Sherlock's eyes and saw not the usual boredom he saw, but pain. Which hurt John to see.**

"**Why do you ask?", John was still shocked from the question, and from the pain that was strong in Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock turned away and swiftly walked out if the room.**

"**No reason", Sherlock called. But John knew that was a lie. He knew that Sherlock was hiding something. He'd find out what.**


	2. Chapter 2

When Sherlock woke up the next morning, he thought about what had happened the previous night. Had he really almost told John his secret? After all these years of keeping it a secret, hiding in the dark, did he dare tell him? What would his reaction be? Would he scream? Would he faint? Would he tell everyone? Or worse still would he leave Baker Street?

Had he almost told john that he was a…

"Sherlock!", John called, interrupting him from his train of thought.

"Yes John?", Sherlock replied, slightly annoyed. When there was no reply, Sherlock sighed and left his bedroom, slowly walking to the kitchen where his 'colleagues' voice had come from. John was staring into the fridge. Well not the fridge its self. He was staring at what was in it.

"Sherlock? Why is there a earlobe in my beer?", Johns voice was slightly higher than normal. Agitated.

"An earlobe John. Not 'a earlobe' ", Sherlock corrected.

"I don't care about how I pronounce it Sherlock, just answer me, why?", John said, never taking his eyes of the earlobe.

"It was an experiment", Sherlock shrugged.

"Is that your excuse for everything? It's an experiment?", John voice sounded funny when he was annoyed, Sherlock noted, it went high pitched and he sounded like a girl. Sherlock smirked at this thought.

"Most of the time John", Sherlock whispered.

"OK. Next time you want to store various body parts amongst the edible things here, please tell me first", Johns voice was back to normal now.

"If you want", Sherlock sighed, he knew he wouldn't.

John nodded and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.

"Going somewhere?", Sherlock asked, he couldn't be bothered to look up from the earlobe that had now caught his attention. It was beginning to rot. He'd have to throw it out soon.

John just stood in front of Sherlock, Sherlock knew what John was expecting. He cast a quick glance at John. Simple. Obvious. Childs play.

"What's her name?", Sherlock asked with a flat tone.

"Rachel", John grinned.

"She works in the florist down the road doesn't she", Sherlock pointed out.

"Yes", John nodded, "how do you know?", although John hated Sherlock deducing everything, he found it a comfort when he knew exactly what he had deduced.

Sherlock sighed dramatically, "your shoes are well polished, and you only ever polish them when you are going out. Your hair is brushed into a different style than you normally have it, your clothes are ironed, and you only ever iron them that much when you are meeting someone of importance. Also you're not wearing your usual knitted jumper, you want to impress someone, obvious".

"How could you possibly know where she works?", John asked, Sherlocks deductions never ceased to amaze him.

"You smell very floral John, you've been down there lots. You placed an order there for some flowers and are going to give them to her. I know that because the business card is sticking out of your jacket pocket and it clearly says 'to Rachel', you have about five of the little cards in your room John; it was obvious you liked someone there. Why else would an ex-army doctor go to the florist every other day?", Sherlock concluded.

"Right, well I won't be out late", John said, happy with Sherlocks deductions. Although they could be irritating.

Sherlock nodded in response and threw himself onto the sofa. He closed his eyes as he heard Johns footsteps become distant. Then, the main door slammed shut. Sherlocks eyes flew open and he reached for his phone.

_John has gone out, probably be back in at least three hours._

_SH_

Sherlock pressed send and waited for the response that arrived a few seconds later.

_I'll be over soon._

_MH_

Sherlock exhaled. Normally he would reject his brothers attention, but he needed to speak to him, he needed to know what to do. Should he let John into his life? Or not? He needed advice.

**A/N: so what did you think? Please review! So sorry for the delay, I had loads of homework to do!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: sorry for the delay! Hope you can forgive me! Anyway here is chapter 3! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: don't own anything…unfortunately…**

Sherlock paced the length of the living room impatiently. Mycroft was due to be there any minute. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back; he was squeezing them with nerves. He wasn't sure whether Mycroft would be angry, or whether he would sympathise him. His mind was racing, what to do, what to do?

The door creaked open.

Mycroft marched into the flat, umbrella in hand with a look of superiority on his face.

"Well, well little brother. What have you gotten yourself into?" Mycroft sighed as he went to sit down in John's usual seat.

Sherlock stopped pacing as soon as his brother stepped into his room; he sat down opposite Mycroft in his own chair, waiting for him to speak again.

"John is it?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes. Well, in a sense yes", Sherlock replied, a frown on his face.

"What is the problem?" Mycroft asked, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

"I'm not sure whether I should tell John about…well you know…" Sherlock trailed off, leaving Mycroft to fit the pieces together. Though to Mycroft Holmes, it was very clear as to what the situation was.

Mycroft sighed, "Sherlock, it all depends on how you feel about it".

"That's the problem. I don't know _how_ I feel about it", Sherlock threw his hands up in frustration.

"Do you feel you could trust him with the secret?" Mycroft asked, his voice was calmer now.

"I suppose so…"

"You don't sound too sure about that"

"I'm not!" Sherlock buried his face in his hands.

All Mycroft Holmes could do was look on. He had never seen his little brother like this. He had always been good at handling things and keeping calm under pressure, but now his little brother looked lost. Mycroft wasn't usually the comforting type, but he couldn't help it, he walked over to Sherlock's chair and enveloped him in a hug. Sherlock stilled at the contact but slowly began to hug back, Mycroft smiled at this. He pulled back and looked his little brother in the eyes.

"You'll figure something out. I'm certain you will", Mycroft reassured him.

Sherlock looked up at his older brother with teary eyes, "How are you certain?"

"Because you are my little brother, the great Sherlock Holmes", Mycroft said, standing to leave, "You'll be fine, I promise you"

Sherlock offered him a weak smile as he walked out of the door, leaving Sherlock to think about what his brother had just said. He glanced at the clock and he was sure that his heart actually stopped for a second. It had been four hours since John had gone out, he was sure to be back any minute now. Sherlock thought about what his brother had said.

_Do you feel you could trust him with the secret?_

He could, he was sure of it. But, what if John was repelled? What if he never wanted to see him again?

_You'll figure something out. I'm certain of it._

His brothers' voice repeated in his head clearly, like he was in the room with him.

_You are the great Sherlock Holmes._

Sherlock closed his eyes and repeated that line over and over again in his head.

_You are the great Sherlock Holmes._

_You are the great Sherlock Holmes._

_You are the great Sherlock Holmes._

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket, he checked it to see that it was a text from his brother.

_John is almost there. You will figure something out. You probably already have, I believe in you Sherlock, you should believe in yourself._

_MH_

Sherlock smiled at that, but the smile disappeared when he heard footsteps quickly approaching.

He had made his decision.

**A/N: what did you think? Did you like the brotherly love? Aww! Anyway, who wants to find out what's going to happen next? Well you'd better review! Free Sherlock hugs, or any other Sherlock character you'd prefer if you review! Thanks! x**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: here it is! The next chapter! A huuuge thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love you!**

Sherlock was shaking slightly with nerves, and with the fact that John seemed to be in an extremely good mood when he walked through the door to their flat. He didn't want to ruin his mood.

"Hello Sherlock!" John grinned, as he practically bounded up to Sherlock.

"Hello John", Sherlock replied, wincing at Johns tone of voice, it was high pitched and almost sounded like Moriarty when they were in the pool. When Sherlock may have had to reveal himself, but was saved by Moriartys' phone ringing with the Bee Gees.

Sherlock felt like that now, but this time, he knew that there was no way out.

"How did it go?" Sherlock asked John, who was now sitting in his usual chair, where Mycroft had been only minutes ago.

"Well, Sherlock. Really well. In fact she wants to see me again another time", John beamed.

"That's nice", Sherlock huffed, half out of boredom from the conversation, half from nerves and habit. Even though conversations like this were annoying and completely boring, Sherlock didn't mind them that much at this precise time, because he knew that he'd have longer, he'd have more time to prepare himself for reactions.

Screams, possible, very possible.

Telling everyone, also quite plausible though he would prefer that not to happen.

Leaving Baker Street? Sherlock wasn't sure on that account. But that was the thing he didn't want to happen. Screaming, he could deal with, telling he could also deal with. But if John, one of his very few friends were to leave Baker Street he was sure he would go to Moriarty and ask him to kill him.

"Sherlock?" John asked, stretching the name out as he spoke.

"Yes John?" Sherlock replied, concern covering his face.

"The other night, when you were standing by the window…", John paused and looked up to see Sherlock's reaction to what he was saying. Sherlock gulped once and took a deep intake of breath to try and steady him.

"Yes?", Sherlock asked, he was pleasantly surprised that there wasn't a tremor in his voice.

"You said something to me. About different types of humans. Then you asked me what I'd do if you were one of them?", John said a look of sheer confusion on his face.

"Yes", Sherlock whispered.

"I was wondering why you walked out after that. It was as it had hurt you to say that Sherlock"

"It didn't"

"For God's sake Sherlock! I know there is something wrong and I don't have to be you to know that so please, for me, just tell me what is wrong", John pleaded and he looked into Sherlock's eyes as he spoke, never moving his gaze away, watching as the taller man's eyes changed with each word. They went from relatively calm to nervous in a matter of seconds, which gave John even more proof that there was something wrong with Sherlock. He was hiding something and John was going to find out what.

"I walked out because…" Sherlock paused, his hands trembling with fear and anticipation.

"Because what Sherlock?" John pressed.

"Because… becauseiamnotentirelyhuman!" Sherlock blurted out, the words rushing from his mouth.

"Because you're not entitled to a hoover? What the hell Sherlock?" John said, a slight grin on his lips, but Sherlock noticed that his eyes were serious.

Sherlock braced himself then spoke again, "Because I'm not entirely human John", his voice shook as he spoke and as he watched John, he saw that his expression softened considerably, then a look of confusion took its place.

"So…you're not human?", John asked his voice was even.

"That's what I said", Sherlock mumbled.

Then, everything was silent. Sherlock glanced around the room nervously, not knowing if he should talk first. Then John started to laugh. He was laughing so hard that his body shook and tears rolled down his cheeks. Sherlock grimaced at this; he had not been expecting this outcome.

John's laughter subsided when he saw Sherlock was just standing, unmoving with a serious expression on his face. John also noticed that Sherlock looked…well…he looked hurt.

"You're not serious, are you Sherlock?" John asked concern present in his voice.

All Sherlock could do was nod his head.

John leaned forwards in his chair and stayed silent, then when he spoke, it was just one word, "Oh…"

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I'm still not buying it", John said. Sherlock had feared this, he sighed before speaking.

"Well there is nothing I can do to convince you that I am telling the truth"

But Sherlock knew that was a lie, he knew that there was one thing he could do to convince John to take what he was saying as the truth. But he did not want to do it. He wouldn't do it.

"You could prove it to me Sherlock. That would help", John said standing up from his chair.

"No John. I can't", Sherlock shook his head as he spoke.

John sighed in frustration, "Sherlock how can you expect me to believe you when you can't prove it to me?"

"That's the thing. I don't expect you to believe me", Sherlock replied.

John started to walk towards the door. Suddenly, Mycroft's voice came back to his head.

_You are the great Sherlock Holmes._

"Wait! John!" Sherlock called. He would prove it.

John spun around on his heel and faced Sherlock.

"What?" he asked.

"I will prove it", Sherlock replied, not a single tremor in his voice.

John stood with his arms crossed, waiting for what Sherlock was about to do. John was almost certainly not expecting what happened next.

Sherlock began to unbutton his shirt.

"Sherlock? What are you doing?" John asked, eyes glued to the quaking fingers that were now fumbling for the top button on their owners' shirt.

"Doing what you asked. Proving it", Sherlock replied, breathing out heavily.

John said no more as Sherlock finally managed to undo the last button. He let the shirt fall to the floor and kept his gaze on the ground as he felt Johns eyes sweep over what he had revealed.

John didn't know what to do. His friend, his best friend, Sherlock Holmes had…wings.

**A/N: Dun dun dun! What's John going to do? Do you want to find out? Then please review! Love you Sherlockians! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: here you go, next chapter!**

John was confused, angry and annoyed.

He was annoyed and angry because Sherlock hadn't told him before.

He was confused because…well…in all honesty, who wouldn't be confused if their best friend revealed that they…had wings...

But most of all, John was shocked, so shocked that he was made speechless. He just stood there and stared, in an almost trance like state, looking at them, wanting to reach out and touch them but not wanting to. He wanted to run but he couldn't move. He wanted to speak but he couldn't make any noise apart from something that sounded like a frightened gasp. Although John wasn't sure if he was scared or surprised and he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or cry.

He didn't know how Sherlock would react to anything he did, and Sherlock was still waiting for John to react, Sherlock watched him as he stood there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Sherlock waited for his reaction, but all John did was stand there and stare, hand half way into reaching out, as if he corrected himself before fully reaching to touch the wings but didn't want to let his hand fall back to his side.

John was staring to see grey mist around the edges of his vision, and he was starting to feel a bit of nausea. John tried to keep his eyes open, tried to stop his body from falling, but it was too late. He had fainted.

* * *

><p>Johns head hurt. No, Johns head didn't hurt, it ached and throbbed like the worse hangover, but he was determined to open his eyes. He had to. His eyes fluttered, revealing segments of light before abruptly closing again, the light made his headache worse, if it was even possible. But John still felt as though he had to get up, so he tried once again, this time succeeding to open his eyes fully, despite the fact that the bright light magnified the throbbing pain in his head. John knew that Sherlock was somewhere near.<p>

"Turn the light off!" John said, though it sounded weak.

Then the light dimmed and John smiled as his headache decreased in pain. He looked around to see that he was on the sofa with a fleece blanket draped over him. The low table had been moved to next to the sofa and there was a glass of water on it. John picked up the glass and took a big swig, instantly feeling relief. He glanced around the room to find that he was on his own, he frowned in disappointment. Where was Sherlock? Then John remembered.

"Oh…" John sat up and placed his head in his hands, he had fainted because Sherlock had wings. Sherlock was probably feeling hurt right now, and John felt guilty, but when another emotion hit John he was ashamed.

John remembered being ever so slightly scared. He had been scared of his best friend, his flat mate and John hated himself for it. He quickly got to his feet and stumbled on shaky legs to the kitchen.

"Sherlock? Sherlock?" John called and he could hear the desperation in his own voice.

John burst through to the kitchen and stilled at what he saw. Sherlock was standing there with a mug in his hands, his shirt still off with his wings revealed, and when he saw John, his eyes widened and he looked at the mug in his hands.

"I made you coffee"

John just stood there, not knowing what the intention of that sentence was. Whether it was to cut the tension or if it had just slipped out. John extended his hands to take the mug from Sherlock, "Thank you", he said, meaning it. John quickly finished the mug, coffee seemed to calm him down and it was at that moment that John knew that Sherlock's intentions had been to calm him down, so that John wouldn't shout.

"Um…so…the…um…wings?" John stuttered, not sure what he was supposed to say. At that, the wings twitched, as if they wanted to leave their owner, but John knew it was what Sherlock was thinking that had caused that.

"Come and sit down with me, then I'll explain. Oh and I'll make you another coffee", Sherlock said, already turning his back on John to face the kettle.

"Ok", John agreed scratching his head as he walked over to his chair and sat down. He would definitely need another coffee, John was certain that the explaining wouldn't be short.

**A/N: Right ok, first things first, thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! It honestly makes me so happy when I see that I have a review! THANK YOU! Next chapter will be Sherlock's story and I'll probably go into description with the wings. Please review and if there is anyone out there who thinks they can't review because anonymous reviews are disabled, then I have one word for you…WRONG! Anonymous reviews are enabled, so you have no excuse! Until next time! Bye! Lucy x **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: here we go next chapter! Thank you to my plot buuny, you know who you are! Also thank you to everyone who has reviewed!**

John's eyes followed Sherlock as he sat opposite him, his wings spread over the arms of the chair, and john could see the uncomfortable look on his face.

"Do you want to stand…?" John asked, feeling rather awkward.

"No", Sherlock whispered, but he still adjusted himself so that his wings were slightly curled around his body, but not so much so that they obscured his face from Johns' line of sight.

"So…" John trailed off, waiting for Sherlock to begin.

Sherlock inhaled deeply and exhaled to calm down, his brilliant mid was telling him that this was all wrong, he should not be telling John this, but he knew he had to. Sherlock closed his eyes and began.

"It happened on a night in November, the weather was horrendous, the rain plummeting to the ground like bullets. I was walking with Mycroft back from a meeting we had to attend with Mummy, I was 15 at the time, Mycroft was 21, and Mummy took the taxi home and told us to walk because she didn't have the money to pay for all of us to get a ride home."

"So Mycroft and I were walking down the dark streets and we started having an argument-"

_Flashback-_

"_Mycroft why didn't you bring an umbrella?" Sherlock whined._

"_Because I don't have one!" Mycroft had shouted._

"_Well get one!"_

"_I don't see the need for one, they are nothing special", Mycroft sighed, still shouting over the noise of the rain._

_End flashback._

Sherlock was staring past john, and John took this moment to look at Sherlocks' wings. They were beautiful. John found himself comparing them to illustrations he had seen in children's books, big white, fluffy, feathered wings, like those of an angel. But there was something different with Sherlock's' wings. It took John a while to figure it out. His wings weren't white, they were black. Black with specks of royal blue and deep purple. Sherlocks' voice snapped John back to reality.

"It was stupid really, about him not having an umbrella, anyway, I couldn't hear him over the howl of the rain and wind. I spotted a tree on the other side of the road that had big leaves and the surface underneath it was dry, so I decided to cross the road with Mycroft, because I was annoyed with him, and then… and then…", Sherlock started to shake visibly and John swallowed, uncomfortable at seeing Sherlock like this, scared and probably feeling vulnerable.

"It's alright Sherlock, you can carry on", John said in a comforting voice.

Sherlock nodded once and continued, "and then… I could hear a voice, quiet but just loud enough for me to be able to hear, it was Mycroft, shouting at me to watch out, but it was too late. Upon hearing Mycrofts' voice I had stopped crossing the road and had stilled in the middle of it, my brothers warnings drowned out with the sound of something roaring closer and closer, before I could react…it…the last thing I saw was the bright headlamps of the car and then I was out cold", Sherlock was looking at his trembling hands, not daring to look at John.

"Sherlock, you were hit?" john asked, in disbelief.

"Yes", Sherlock said, trying to control his breathing and the shakes.

John covered his eyes with his hands for a second, scared at what he would say next, but he uncovered them quickly, thinking that Sherlock would misunderstand and think John was hiding from him.

"Sherlock, look if you don't want to carry on, I understand", John said in a reassuring voice. Sherlock looked at him with pained eyes and John could see that they were slightly teary, just a few drops of salty water wanting to fall, wanting to spill over the edge, but they weren't allowed. Sherlock didn't want to cry, especially in front of John.

"No it's fine. I just…when I opened my eyes next, I was still lying on the floor, Mycroft was leaning over me, he was obviously relieved that I was 'ok' but he had a frown on his face. I… I asked him… I asked him if I was d-dead. If I was in heaven or if my experiments had made me go to h-hell. He said that I was alive, but he had to do something, something bad to make me stay alive. He had to turn me into a d-dark angel", Sherlock started to sob, and for a few minutes, John let him. For John was confused.

_Dark angel?_ John thought, the words sent a chill down his spine, but he didn't know why. John was so deep in his thought that he didn't notice someone else enter the room. He didn't notice someone walk over to Sherlock and give him a hug. He didn't notice the umbrella propped against the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: right... I suppose I should start by apologizing... I've had a lot on my mind recently...family matters... so I'm extremely sorry. I do hope that you can forgive me:) this chapter is quite short because it was written in school in a free lesson we had:) I'll make up for it though, next chapter will be longer... promise!**

John was brought back to reality when Mycroft began glaring at him. He looked up from the floor and lent further into his chair, hiding from Mycrofts' stony glare.

"What have you said to him?", Mycroft asked his voice beginning to rise an octave.

"I-I've done nothing!", John denied, shaking his head.

Mycroft stood up and grabbed his umbrella, pointing it towards John's chest, where under the layers of skin and tissue, his heart was beating frantically, working over time, while his brain was trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Why is he crying then?", Mycroft pushed the tip of the umbrella closer still, so that John could feel the cold metal through his jumper.

"Why? Because he started explaining stuff to me. H-how am I meant to k-know?", John shivered at the dark tone in the elder Holmes' voice, covering his face with his hands.

As John peeped out from behind his hands, he saw Mycrofts' expression soften considerably.

"Apologies. I shouldn't have assumed that it was your fault", bowing his head, he lowered his umbrella and walked back over to his sobbing sibling.

John sat up and watched as Sherlock slowly looked up from behind the curly locks that hung over his bowed head.

"Sherlock?", John asked warily.

"Y-yes J-John?", was the weak reply that Sherlock could manage between sobs.

"Um… are you ok?", and at that precise moment, John swore he could of slapped himself. Why did he have to be so idiotic and ask such a question?

But to his luck, Sherlock smiled slightly and said,"fine, John. Fine."

"good" John was satisfied with Sherlock's answer.

Nothing else was said between the three of them for the next hour. Although John noticed that Sherlock would smile or smirk sometimes and Mycroft would raise his eyebrow, causing Sherlock to laugh slightly. But even though John was confused by these actions, he was happy when Sherlock smiled or laughed. It proved that he really was fine.

John examined his hands on his lap, turning them over with questions rolling around in his head, but he daren't say them aloud. They were mostly about the wings and the random expressions and smiles that Sherlock kept giving. Why were Sherlock and Mycroft acting as though they were talking to each other? John saw Sherlocks' eyebrow rise after this thought and John just gave him a questioning glance. Mycroft sighed, but John could see the faint smile he was trying to conceal.

John had had enough.

"Right!", John practically shouted, standing up, "What is going on? Will you please explain everything and I repeat everything to me…because I am seriously annoyed, confused and I feel as though if I don't get any answers soon I'm going to faint again or go and stay the nigt with Stamford, and I only do that when I'm desperate "

Mycroft walked over to John and smirked, in a way that reminded John slightly of Moriarty.

"Goodbye John", Mycroft began descending the stairs and Jonn stared incredulously at him.

"Oh come on! Mycroft tell me now!" John grabbed Mycrofts' arm and pulled him back into the flat. Mycroft held his lips in a fine line.

"Mycroft please!", John begged giving the government official his best puppy dog eyes.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed again.

"I'm a dark angel slayer",he finally said walking back into the flat, but it was too much for John. He passed out. As he saw Mycroft looking down at him with a genuinely concerned look on his usually poker face, the last coherent thought that passed through his mind was-there's going to be another hour long explanation, I can tell.

**A/N: what did you think? Please leave a review! Oh and hello to my new reviewer 'anonymous'! Hello and thank you for your reviews! A huge thank you to all my other reviewers too! Your reviews mean an awful lot to me:) x**


	8. Chapter 8

When John came to again he found himself questioning his wakefulness. Was the past hour a bizarre dream or was it real? Surely not! John saw a glass of water on a place mat on the floor next to him and gratefully brought it to his lips and finished the liquid in three big gulps. He stood up, fully stable and took the empty glass and the place mat into the kitchen, dumping the glass in the washing up bowl that was filled with test tubes. Shaking his head John muttered,"bloody experiments", before switching the kettle on and fetching himself a mug. He drummed his fingers on the work tops as he poured the steaming hot water into his mug of coffee. Smiling, John sat down in his chair in the living room and began sipping the calming concoction.

Mycroft who was sat in Sherlocks' chair opposite to where John was seated waited for John to say something about wings or angels but Mycroft knew what was going through Johns' head. It was dreams. He knew that John believed it all to be a dream. Flashing John a thin-lipped smile, Mycroft scanned Johns' face for any sign of remembrance. There was none.

"Morning Mycroft", John said, reaching for a news paper that was on the coffee table in front of him.

"Good evening John", Mycroft corrected relaxed-not completely and calm. John looked out of the window behind Mycroft and furrowed his brow in confusion. It was certainly evening. John cocked his head a little to the left and gave Mycroft a questioning look.

"I know I fainted, but how long was I out for?".

Mycroft gave John a sickly smile,"you're a grown man John, do the maths" John didn't do the maths, he hadn't wanted to ask that question. He had wanted to ask something else, about him fainting. Taking a deep and unnecessary breath John made sure to keep eye contact with Mycroft, he wouldn't let him out of this.

"Why did I faint?", John asked. Mycroft only paused for a little while, not too long or short for John to think that he was fabricating an answer.

"Sherlock was messing with his toys in the kitchen again and one of the fumes were so strong that it knocked you out. I had to step in to make sure that hospitalization wasn't needed",Mycroft said before adding-more to himself than to John,"he always did love playing with chemicals" John rolled his eyes and took another sip from his coffee.

"Where is Sherlock now?", John asked, but he knew there was only one place he would be now, he didn't have a case.

Mycrofts' answer confirmed it. "He's in his bedroom", Mycroft examined the umbrella that was propped against the arm of the chair he was sat in,"I think he's getting changed" Mycroft hoped that would banish all thoughts of going to see Sherlock from Johns' mind. And it did. John decided not to say anything else after that and placed his mug on the coffee table.

The silence that came was unbearable. John fidgeted in his seat trying to find something to say. He wasn't going to say about his dream, definitely not to Mycroft. He knew that the response he'd get would either be an eyebrow raise or an umbrella swing. Not looking up from his mug, John asked, "Why's Sherlock taking so long? He doesn't normally take ages" Mycrofts' head snapped up from his notebook and he closed the old book carefully, the leather bindings were wearing out.

"He's probably feeling guilty for...damaging you and is sulking in his room" John considered this, Sherlock did sulk a lot, but only normally when he was bored or he was wrong which was very rarely. What John hated about this was that even though Sherlock was obviously sulking because of a misinterpretation, he always insisted otherwise.

A thought flashed across Johns' mind and he smiled rather smugly,"but he's neither bored nor wrong and he never truly cares about damaging me. And there's one important thing you obviously thought I'd look over..." When Mycroft frowned John couldn't have looked any smugger. Mycroft remained silent so John continued with the talking. "Sherlock never locks his door. Even when he's getting changed or angry and you know that. There's something going on that you're not telling me Mycroft so I'm going to find out for myself. I don't need a consulting detective or government person to help me. Not when it's the consulting detective that's the mystery"

Mycroft held his head in his hands as John stood up and strode out of the room, head held high. John knocked on Sherlocks' door and when there was no reply he tried again. No reply. "Sherlock, come out please. Or at least let me in. Mycroft won't tell me why you're in your room and he's making up excuses", John waited.

"John! I thought it might have been my brother that was knocking on my door. How are you feeling?",Sherlock called from behind his door and John was slightly angry at Sherlock for changing the subject.

"I'm fine Sherlock. Just let me know that you're alright. I don't give a damn how you do it, if you just say yes or even if you nod your head and I bloody can't see you." There was the sound of a bolt being drawn and then Sherlock stood in front of John smiling.

"I'm perfectly fine John, I'm sorry about you fainting",he stared into Johns' eyes intently as he said this.

"You're...apologising? To me? Now I know something is wrong. If you hadn't of said sorry then maybe I would have just walked away and left you to it. So come on. Sherlock. Tell me", John crossed his arms and Sherlock hesitated before opening his bedroom door and gesturing to John to go inside.

"Mycroft!",Sherlock called,"my room. Now" John sat on the edge of Sherlocks' bed and watched as Mycroft and Sherlock both entered the room, Mycroft standing by the door and locking it and Sherlock standing next to John. John looked up at the two brothers and saw that Mycroft was glaring ever so slightly at Sherlock.

"Mycroft, can you explain please?", John asked,"I've had enough of your obvious lies. I thought politicians were supposed to be good at lying", he added in a bitter tone.

"John, that is hardly your business! What I do or don't say in my field of work is classified!", Mycroft said, on the brink of becoming angry with John.

"Oh shut up Mycroft!", Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother ,"We'll have to explain to John and you being irritable is not going to help".

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at the younger Holmes and sighed,"Alright then brother, but you're going to have to show John first. Otherwise he won't believe a word of what either of us have to say". John waited, holding on to the edge of Sherlocks' bed as if to brace himself for what was to come.

Sherlock gave Mycroft a sarcastic smile and swiftly removed his shirt. John thanked himself for deciding to sit down and for holding onto the side of the bed. John widened his eyes involuntarily and memories flashed across his mind with such force that he clutched his forehead in clear pain. Sherlock sat next to John and wrapped his arms around him tightly. He pried Johns' hand away from his head and let go of him examining his face. Sherlock saw many things at that moment. But there were two things that were prominent.

Remembrance and fear.

Sherlock watched in silence as a tear rolled down Johns' cheek, he wanted to wipe it away, to tell John that it was alright. But he was frozen. He could see what John was thinking, what was going through his mind and Sherlock was shocked and-his inner human was betraying him with this-touched. John wasn't scared by the fact that Sherlock was even more different than he originally thought, but he feared for Sherlocks' health after the transformation and keeping his wings under the layers of clothing, thinking that this must hurt him. Sherlock smiled as John realised why Sherlock wore his coat even in the blistering heat. He did so to mask his wings even more, the heavy material covered them and the shapes disappeared, meaning that he wouldn't get questioned by Lestrade or any of the Yarders. John wiped away the stray tear, ashamed at himself and looked Sherlock in the eyes. He found it near impossible to not let his eyes wander onto the wings. Sherlocks' wings, he reminded himself. He wanted to touch the wings, to see what they felt like, but John could see Sherlock becoming uncomfortable.

John paused before asking,"Can you read my mind?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, yes I can. I can also send thoughts to other people, not so much thoughts but images would be the way to describe it", Sherlock looked at John, concentrating and John jumped in surprise when a video of Sherlock saying,'I told you so' erupted in his head.

"Ok Sherlock I would have believed you without you doing that. I'm ready to believe anything at the moment", John said and Sherlock grinned.

"I know next weeks lottery numbers", he said still grinning.

John shook his head, smiling,"Everything apart from that Sherlock". Sherlock stopped grinning when Mycroft stepped forwards and next to the bed where he and John were both sat, quite a distant away from each other because of Sherlocks' wings.

"I suppose I haven't an excuse not to explain now", Mycroft sighed, then added,"but Sherlock I need your consent to carry on".

"You don't normally ask for my consent to talk about me Mycroft", Sherlock pointed out, not looking at his brother.

"Sherlock this is of extreme importance considering the fact that John knows. You can't leave him with a hundred loose ends to hang on to. This is different to all the other times I've talked about you also. So going by your arrogance I'm going to say that you consent", Mycroft concluded.

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft and nodded, standing up and leaving his room.

"He doesn't want to hear this again", Mycroft said simply.

John nodded once,"but-surely Mrs Hudson will see him?" Mycroft was silent for a second.

There was a clicking sound in the distance. "He's just locked the door and no doubt he has just drawn the curtains too",Mycroft smiled-a genuine smile which shocked John-as he said this. He was obviously glad that Sherlock remembered to do what he had told him all those years back. John could hear the sound of Sherlock playing his violin and he relaxed as Mycroft pulled a chair from the corner of the room and placed it in front of John, sitting down and leaning forwards.

"I understand, John, that my brother has already explained to you why I had to transform him. It's the how that you don't know. Correct?", Mycroft waited expectantly.

"Yes, that is right", John replied.

"I should start with telling you this, I began working in politics when I was 20. Which is a young age to have any big profession, but due to my fathers' employment I had the very best education and upbringing. I was trained in politics. So after half a year of being in my profession, I was let into a secret. Everyone there was a dark angel slayer. Now I, of course was very sceptical of the paranormal and supernatural. But they made me believe that there were things out there. Things beyond the human brains construction", Mycroft paused, looking at John, who signalled for him to carry on.

"A dark angel slayer isn't a paranormal or supernatural being, they simply prevent dark angels from causing conflict. But if the dark angel does something unforgivable, then they must be slain. How they can be slain I am unable to tell you, that is one of our biggest secrets. To tell that itself would probably call for a death penalty", John raised an eyebrow at this. Mycroft continued. "I, as a new recruit was given a vial containing an antidote for death if you wish. But the only way out of death is-", Mycroft stopped, letting John finish off his sentence.

"To become a dark angel", Johns' voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes", Mycroft began again,"the only way it works properly is if it's injected into the persons bloodstream. So I carried the vial and a syringe with me all the time in case of an emergency. Now then John, you can't blame me for doing what I did to Sherlock. If it was in your hands you'd do the same", Mycroft waited for a reply.

"Yes. Yes of course I would".

Mycroft continued,"I was scared, I couldn't think rationally for a few seconds. It was my little brother, sprawled in the middle of the road with a puddle of blood next to his head. I calmed myself and went over to him and picked him up, carrying him to under a large tree to shelter us from the rain. I already had the vial in my hand, I emptied half it's contents into the syringe, only half was needed to fill the needle all the way to the top and I paused before I did it. I hesitated. Something I never do. I knelt next to him and tilted his head back, ignoring the blood and injected the antidote into him", Mycroft sighed as the volume of the violin music became louder.

Sherlock could hear him.

Mycroft lowered his voice,"The next few minutes were torturous. I had to cover my brothers mouth to muffle his moans and screams of agony. The two bone spurs broke through his skin and started to form the wings. In the middle of the transformation he passed out, the pain was too much. When he next awoke, the transformation was complete". Mycroft leaned back in the chair and watched John carefully.

John was grimacing, his face seemed to be frozen in a pained expression. John shook his head and frowned. As he had sat and listened to Mycroft he could almost see, almost hear what he was explaining and to imagine the amount of pain that Sherlock went through-John shook his head again, dismissing the pictures.

"Sherlock, you can come back in now if you wish", Mycroft called, there was a pause and Sherlock played the final few notes of the melody he was playing and then there was silence apart from the soft padding of his bare feet.

Sherlock opened the door to his bedroom, and stood next to the curtains that were drawn across his window. His wings were held close to his body, there was no room to stretch them out fully in his small room. Sherlock looked from Mycroft to John and back to his older brother who gave Sherlock an uneven smile.

Neither Sherlock nor Mycroft were prepared for what John did next.

John stood up, cautiously walking over to Sherlock with his hands out in front of him, as though Sherlock was a frightened animal. He stopped in front of his friend and encapsulated him in a hug, being careful not to touch his wings.

Sherlocks' eyes widened and he looked over at Mycroft, sending him images of things he could do. Sherlock was unsure. Mycroft pondered over the options then tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair twice. Option number two. Sherlock relaxed and wrapped his arms around John, hugging him back, Johns' tears were leaving glimmering trails behind them as they ran down his cheeks and fell onto the plush carpet. Sherlock knew that he had been accepted for what he was.

A freak of nature, a monster.

A dark angel.

Smiling, Sherlock unfurled his wings enough so that they would wrap around John. Mycroft looked at his brother and seeing him smiling, seeing him that happy, was all he needed. He knew that he had a friend in John, and that he was safe as long as their friendship lasted. They were both as safe as they wanted to be if they trusted each other.

Mycroft stood up and grabbed his umbrella from the living room, the last thought he sent towards Sherlock being;don't forget to put your top back on brother, you know what it'd do to your landlady. Sherlock chuckled at the simplicity of his brother at times and pulled back from John, folding his wings to his body again. John was frantically wiping his tears away, muttering,"you were in the army now pull yourself together!", to himself.

Sherlock took his dressing gown down off the hook on his door and was about to put it on when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out his mobile, looking indifferent though that wasn't how he felt.

He opened the new message, read it, then deleted it, he didn't want to risk John seeing it.

"Who was that?", John asked, trying to look over Sherlocks' wings.

"That was Mycroft, telling me that I need to clear up my chemicals", Sherlock lied. Though it did need clearing.

"Well good...that's good", John said,"I'll just...go and sit down in the living room". Sherlock nodded and smiled as John left the room, but as soon as the door was closed he frowned.

The message hadn't been off Mycroft at all. The message was from someone he hadn't heard from for a while.

A long while. The message read-

_Sherly, if I was you I'd keep a close eye on your pet for the next few weeks._

_M xxx_

Dropping his phone in his dressing gown pocket and carefully putting it on over his wings, Sherlock went into the living room and picked up his violin, glancing at John. He would do as the message told him, just to be certain that nothing unwanted would happen. Sherlock picked up the bow and drew it across the strings, closing his eyes as the familiar melodies flowed through the air.

**A/N: I did promise a longer chapter! What did you think? Please leave a review to let me know! Your support is greatly appreciated! L x**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR FOLKS! So I disappeared for a bit, but I'm back:D Here's the next chapter!**

When John heard the sound of Sherlock putting his violin back in it's case, he waited until he knew that Sherlock was finished to look up. Sherlock looked at John from where he was stood by the window and he could tell that John had questions. Sherlock ran his hand through his curls and sighed, pulling back the thick curtain slightly and looking out onto the busy street below.

"Ok, you've got questions",Sherlock stated whilst watching a mother and two children walked past.

Mother was divorced, her ex husband was an adulterer. The eldest child figured it out himself, there was tension between the mother and son because of this. Presumably the mother didn't want her son blabbing to his sister. So ordinary.

So unlike him.

"Yes. Am I the only...human who knows?", John waited with his head tilted to one side.

Sherlock's eyes followed people as they went about their day.

"Yes",he replied simply. Though he wasn't sure. There was a part of him that said Moriarty knew, and knowing the psychopath, that wasn't something unexpected. John nodded and looked over his shoulder to the kitchen.

"You haven't tidied your experiment yet. I thought your brother told you too?", John pointed out, the smile in his voice was clear.

"You should know by now John, I never listen to my brother, unless I know that it will bring me some good",Sherlock's eyes closed momentarily. If only John knew who it was that had sent him the text. But Sherlock knew that he couldn't tell John. That might trigger something and put him in more danger than he was to begin with, and Sherlock didn't want that. He'd have to keep quiet that's all, and keep a close eye on John.

John's lips curled into a smile,"Hmm...fair point",he looked around the room and his eyes stopped on a brown paper file on the coffee table.

"You've...got a new case? Already?!"

Sherlock turned away from the window to see John pointing at the file. He turned back to the window,"No, that's an old case. From before your time with me John"

John's curiosity heightened and he wanted to whip out the contents of the file immediately. He'd heard Sherlock make references to old cases, but never had he the privilege of reading one.

"Yes you can look. But be careful, the paper's old",Sherlock said. John mentally cursed and Sherlock smirked. John had forgotten about the fact that Sherlock could read his mind.

"You're sure that I can read it?",John asked, slightly embarrassed. Sherlock nodded curtly as his gaze locked onto a tall, broad shouldered man who was walking towards the flat. His shoulders were held in a way that spoke of authority and his pace was steady, never increasing or decreasing in speed until he reached the door of 221 Baker Street.

It was then that he stopped.

He looked out onto the street from where he was stood and leant forwards onto the toes of his left foot and started looking for someone. Sherlock rolled his eyes at this charade. The man was simply stalling, trying to buy himself some time. But for what? The rest Sherlock could see, it was all so plain. It was all so simple. It was all written for him on his face, in his stance and manners of movement.

But why was he stalling?

Sherlock couldn't get through to his thoughts, when he tried the thoughts of other passers by invaded his mind. A sleek black car parked next to him, and Sherlock sighed. This was obvious. The man walked towards the car and opened the back door, leaned in and retrieved a briefcase. Obvious...this was all expected. It was all too obvious now.

There had to be something unexpected, something that wouldn't be anticipated. There wouldn't be a gun inside the case, a gun couldn't harm him. It could harm John, but if John was hurt then they would get hurt. What could it be?

A bomb? No-too delicate.

The man definitely wasn't trained with explosives. It wouldn't be something to kill John, or even to hurt John. John would be untouched, unharmed after what the man was going to do. That was easy to tell. The man obviously worked for Moriarty...so John was going to be whisked off somewhere-chloroform? No, they'd have to get past Sherlock first if they wanted any chance to take John.

Sherlock murmured a "shut up" to his brain as he tried to recall what John had said to him when he had been happily people watching. Something about-...ah yes. He remembered. John had asked him if he was the only human who knew, if it was true that Moriarty did know then he would know of ways to hurt, or potentially kill, him. The man was one of the few people who knew how to kill an angel. He had been bribed by a psychopath to go to an angels door and unleash what was inside his briefcase.

Sherlock didn't know what was inside the briefcase. He'd heard rumours about what could kill an angel, though he hoped that those were just things Mycroft had made up to taunt him when he was younger. But right now, as the man walked up to the door with the briefcase, Sherlock was clueless. He grabbed his shirt that was draped over the top of his chair and struggled with putting it on over his wings. John offered to help several times, but Sherlock declined. Sherlock needed room to breath, he needed room to think.

Once the shirt was finally buttoned to the top, Sherlock put his jacket on over it to hide the bulk of his wings. There came a ring as the doorbell was pressed. John rose out if his seat to answer the door but Sherlock made him sit down again.

"No John, stay where you are. This could be dangerous", Sherlock cautioned.

"Dangerous? What do you-",John was cut across by Sherlock shouting.

"MRS HUDSON!"

A door opened below and there came an exasperated sigh,"Sherlock I'm you landlady". The main door was opened despite this, and Sherlock noticed that the man wasn't answering Mrs Hudson's demands to tell her who he was. The steps creaked under the weight of the man and there was a pause before he entered the flat.

"Excuse me gentlemen, I hope you don't mind my intrusion",he spoke with a thick English accent.

"Oh no, not at all", Sherlock gestured at his chair and the man sat down with a confident expression.

"State your name and your business here", Sherlock said while keeping his eyes trained on the briefcase for any sign of movement.

"My name will be of no importance to you Mr Holmes. You won't remember it if I tell you anyway", the man grinned smugly as he relaxed in the chair.

Sherlock pretended that the comment hadn't been made,"could I take your case?"

"If you wouldn't mind",the man said, thrusting his hands in his pockets,"and as for my business here, you know very well what that is Mr Holmes"

Sherlock picked up the case and glanced at John before throwing it open.

**A/N:So I'm going to be evil and leave you on a cliff hanger:D Please leave a review, extra virtual cookies to my first reviewer of 2013! xxxxxx**


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